Zora Travels

Playing and goop

Noodle always enjoys her pint-sized friends.  Friday found us at birthday festivities and "goop & dust" parties.  Both were a hoot.

Here are some of my favorite weekly pictures.  Plus some adorable videos of her with her dad...reading and getting tickled. 

Daniel and I are about to go out on a hot date.  Yup, that's two dates in two weeks - a RECORD for us love birds.  We would love to keep up this amazing streak of luck and babysitters.

Charlotte sharing a ball with Nora.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Susan helps Melissa blow out the candle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Nora showing Lydia her downdog.  She was not impressed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Our "sensory" playdate.  Each month, a lovely mom is going to set out various textures, surfaces, and materials for the kids.  This month's inaguaral activity was goop and playdough and flour.  Large troughs of cornstarch mixed with water for an awesome goop, homemade playdough in big sticky balls, and bowls full of floor to sift.

 

 

 

 

 

  Nora was in hog heaven.  Rubbing her hands all over her hair, drizzling goop on her lap, sifting flour in piles on her shirt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  She ended up in a blissful state of sticky, dirty, and nearly naked.  Being allowed the ultimate treat of climbing our porch stairs over and over and over...coating her knees and hands with filth.  It was indeed an easy journey to sleep last night.  Her eyes closing and lips loosing their grip almost as soon as nursing began.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The infamous "daddy foot tickles."  If he stops, she grabs his foot and brings it to her tummy for more.  I can never get enough of watching these two.

 

And her new favorite book (since we try and hide "Goodnight, Gorilla" out of shear exhaustion).

2oz. to freedom

There's a popular cd by Sublime, 40oz. to freedom, and I thought of it often over the past few days as I avidly pumped to reach my own freedom marker.  My mom had said that with Nora's tiny stomach, approximately the size of her little fist, she would most likely be satisfied with a mere 2 ounces of breastmilk.  I set my sites upon that line on the Medela bottle.  And when I first placed the suction cup upon my breast, my confidence was sky-high.  How easy this will be, I thought.  No need for breast shields, lanolin cream, painful wincing moments as her sweet smacking vice-grip mouth latches on.  Simply flick a switch and creamy milk will flow into the bottle.  Surely within minutes the two ounce mark will be reached...and a joyous jaunt into the world to run errands ALONE will be within reach.

Tsk, tsk, tsk...for such bravado!

My first pump yielded a scant 1/8 of an ounce.  Ivory splatters were shaken and cajoled down the side of the bottle to yield a ridiculously small amount.  I cried.  I squeezed my breasts.  I talked to my breasts. 

The conversations over the past few days went something like this:

"Hey Leftie, let it flow, let it flow, so we can get out of here later today."

"Is that sucking creature coming with us?"

"No, that's the whole point...but you have to produce."

"You're making me nervous."

"Nervous? I'm burning candles, soaking you in hot water, touching you nicely...what more do you need?"

"You have to think of that creature."

"Easy enough." thinking...Sweet Nora, Little Noodle, Nuglett Princess... "Hey, I'm thinking about her and you're still not coming through."

"You're just not relaxed enough.  Performance anxiety."

"Well, you know what that means?"

"Yeah, but it's Right's turn."

And so it was today, on the fourth day of pumping, that the 2oz. mark was reached...just barely...with an opaque line of milk scratching at the blue line on the bottle.  But enough for me to wake from an afternoon nap, take one look at sleeping Daniel and Nuggie, and grab the keys and Anna (Daniel's sister) and head out the door.  It was yet again a thrill to be outside.  Staples, Bank of America, and Trader Joe's have never felt so liberating.  I couldn't help but remember the last time I was at my beloved TJ's.  Thinking to myself how it would be my final time there before I became a mother.  Rubbing my stomach as I fingered the apples and stroking the necks of wine bottles longingly as I passed them by.

Tonight holds a feast a la Annalisa.  Salmon is baking, brown rice is simmering.

With every two ounces, there's a wee bit of freedom around the corner.

 

Me Time

Only twelve days ago there was no way to prepare for how my life, my home, my heart, and my time would change.  Of course I knew that my sleeping routine would be affected and certainly my ability to flit about town running errands...but the depth of change and my (for now) easy acceptance of said changes have surprised me. 

I did struggle on about day four because all of a sudden I wanted a calendar I had seen at the bookstore.  For .10 seconds I thought, I'll just run over...and then reality struck.  My thought changed to I'll go and get it in a few weeks when I can wrap my head around public nursing. 

When experienced moms tell me, "Oh, you'll get the hang of it," I really want to believe them but for now I'm all thumbs.  I have a shield for my "flat issue" that has to be adhered, one wrist with pregnancy-induced carpal-tunnel numbness in a wrist brace, arms that are trying to cradle or football or inverted triangle hold and all of this is taking place under the muslin blanket that I  draped over both of our heads like an enormous circus tent.  It must look like a lip-smacking octopus is caught under gauze.  A mess truly to behold.  That is the public nursing visual of Nora & me from our day three doctor's office adventure.  So, needless to say, I DID NOT go to the bookstore...wise choice, no?

**After several interviews, we found the smiliest (and yes, medical-savviest) doctor for our Nuglett Princess.  Dr. T is fabulous!

So it is with the myriad reformations of my life that I take great joy in announcing I have squeezed in "me time."  Years ago my mother told me that one of her regrets from her blissful years of early motherhood is that she rarely, if ever, gave my father the opportunity to care for us on his own. She had experience and absolute confidence in her diapering, nurturing, swaddling, bathing, and feeding skills; thus, instead of watching him struggle and experience frustration, she simply kept performing the duties almost entirely alone.   My dad became the occasional "babysitter" to his own children...and a sitter that was greatly relieved when his 15 min. were up.  I was bound and determined to not repeat this same mistake.  Sure, my mom had an in-home daycare when I was young.  I babysat and took nanny positions all throughout high school and college.  I have many close friends whose newborns I've cared for from day one...but I want Nora to feel as comforted in Daniel's arms as my own.  I want to only trump him when it comes to nursing.

My first opportunity came two days ago.  Noodle Girl had suckled like a rock star.  She was solidly asleep (it turns out not-quite-so-solid) when I announced that I was going to go get a massage.  Daniel's thick eyebrows arched ever-so-slightly but his mouth uttered a reassuring, "okay" and I was off.  Within 15 minutes I was under the oily hands of Edmund and zoning out to flutes and fluttering music on a warm table.  I even turned my cell phone completely off...not just vibrate but off.  Results = Daniel is a super papa and I was super relaxed.

My second opportunity for "me time" came yesterday.  My next-door angels - I mean- neighbors - texted that I was welcome to use their pool in light of the recent heat wave.  So again I put Nugs into a milk-coma, said goodbye to my Mama (who has continued her path to sainthood by doing all things possible to make our lives easier), and walked ten feet to the pool.  The sky you see in this picture blanketed my world as I floated and frolicked for an hour.  Swimming laps, kicking madly, and smiling at how different the aqua experience was now sans baby.  I can do laps so much faster!  And then it was as simple as slipping back on my flip flops and walking ten feet back to my own porch to dry off.

Life, kind neighbors (including the other one who brought me unsolicited frozen yogurt on a 113 degree day), and motherhood are all pretty darn cool.

 

The email that changed everything

Nuggie has quite the suck.  I mean she nurses sometimes for 1.5 hours (please don't write to me with advice on whether that is or is not too much or too little time...my capacity for receiving advice on nursing is filled to the brim) and then after sucking that much, she can suck my mom's or Daniel's finger easily for another hour.  So, it was with huge relief that although going against the b'feeding book advice, after I received an email from my sis-in-law, Kathy that said she used a paci with my niece and it was a lifesaver, I thought about it for all of maybe two minutes and then went looking through Nora's many baskets o'stuff for pacifiers.  Because not only did Kathy mention that she used one, but of course she had given me Becca's pacifiers when she visited in the summer (including with clips that say "Becca" on them...heart melted!)

Now the skies are bluer (and they were already pretty darn blue) and the flowers sweeter.  My little Noodle Princess, Suck Mouse, Suesse Hasse eats to her tummy's delight and then sucks ferociously on a paci until spitting it out and continuing to sleep, and sleep, and sleep.

Man, oh, mannity-man - life is good. 

***here are some first bath photos from earlier tonight***